


Night Watch

by via_ostiense



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Percy Ficathon, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-20
Updated: 2004-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/via_ostiense/pseuds/via_ostiense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was me! I did it, I raised the basilisk, and I can’t forget it! Ever!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Watch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sincelastjuly](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sincelastjuly).



> Written for the Percy Ficathon in 2004(?).

Percy leaned his head back against the wall, easing the cricks in his neck. In the dark, all the shapes of the hallway were shadowy and fuzzy. He shifted on his patch of carpet, off to one side of the hallway, as far from the bedroom door as possible. Only a few more hours to dawn, he told himself, then he could go off to bed for some sleep. Only a few more hours.

Floorboards creaked inside the room he was watching, and he tensed. This had been a quiet night, no sounds of a body thrashing under its frilly comforters. No moaning or mumbling, as of someone caught in an endless nightmare, and no crying. On the nights when he’d crept into the room and woken her from a nightmare, murmuring reassurances, Ginny had broken down and cried, clutching at him, sobbing of basilisks and blood and murder. Sometimes she would fall asleep in his arms, sticky with sweat and tears, and he’d sit smoothing out her disheveled locks until dawn, when he went back to his own room. Sometimes, blowing her nose on her nightdress and rubbing her eyes, she would hiss for him to leave, she could take care of herself. After stepping out of her room and closing the door, he’d lean against it, silently cursing as he listened to his sister gasp and cry. He cursed Tom Riddle’s memory for tormenting Ginny, himself for failing to protect his little sister, and his family for failing to notice that something was wrong with her. It was mid-August and she was still captive to her memories.

He came alert, drawn out of his bitter thoughts, as her door cracked open. It squeaked loudly in the silence of the sleeping house, and he half-expected the rest of the family to wake. But no one appeared besides Ginny, who slowly stepped out. Closing the door behind her, she crept downstairs, not noticing her brother, sitting in the dark. He waited, unsure of what she was doing. The sound of drawers opening and shutting echoed up the stairs, and the creak of the kitchen door. He padded down the stairs and stepped onto the porch. Ginny was a pale blur in the darkness, her white nightgown and white skin standing out against the dark weeds and grass of the field. His throat closed as the glint of metal showed at her throat. As he watched, she took a breath and tilted her head back. No, he thought,  _no_.

He whipped his wand out and pointed it at her. “Expelliarmus!” His mother’s best meat knife soared away into the field and Ginny turned to him. The look on her face was utter fury, and as he ran off the porch, she threw herself at him.

“How dare you,” she shrieked, “how  _dare_  you!” She thrashed and kicked, clawing at his face, at his arms. Twisting his head aside, he clung to her, pinning her arms across her chest and avoiding her kicks as best as he could. Her foot connected with his leg and he toppled, landing on his back with her weight on top of him. His breath left him in a whumph and he gasped, while hanging onto Ginny with all his might. Slowly, she began to calm down and hung limply in his arms like a sack of flour. Percy lay in the dirt, regaining his breath, feeling the tension in his limbs ebb slightly. Careful not to dislodge his sister, he sat up, perforce propping her upright against himself.

“Why—what were you doing, Ginny?” he asked.

“What’d it look like?” she muttered, staring at the dirt. The silence between them was broken only by the night insects chirping, as he struggled to come up with a response.  _It was perfectly obvious, you know what I mean_ , and  _why, Ginny, why?_  were all floating through his head when she spoke again.

“I just wanted him out of my head!” No mistaking the ‘him’ there, she pronounced the word with bitterness and venom. He sat in the grass and the weeds, uncertain of what to say.

“It’s all right, I’m sure Mum and Dad could, uh, do something,” he attempted.  _Could they? They don’t even realise that something’s wrong with Ginny_ , he thought viciously.  _No one does_.

She stiffened, and tried to pull out of his arms. “They couldn’t! They won’t!” He held her tightly and felt the tension coiled in her spine. “They won’t even listen to me talk about him, they look away and change the subject or they tell me that it’s all right and that I’ll forget about him soon!” Her tight body shook in his arms as she burst into sobs. “I’m not going to forget Tom. I can’t, he’s—he’s in me, he’s part of me, and I remember everything. Percy, I almost  _killed_  people—”

“Shh, shh, that wasn’t you, that was Tom,” he murmured, cradling her in his arms. She was crying now, maybe she’d wear herself out soon and he could take her up to bed—

“It wasn’t! It was me, Percy, me!” she shouted, wrenching herself away. She stood, trembling, her white nightgown stained with dirt and grass and tears. “It was me! I did it, I raised the basilisk, and I can’t forget it! Ever!” She whirled away, sobbing fiercely. Percy scrambled to his feet and approached her helplessly. A hundred different ideas ran through his head, from waking up Mum and Dad and telling them to fix his sister to Stunning her and dragging her to St. Mungo’s. What came out of his mouth was altogether different.

“I,” he began, “I, uh, I could make you forget.” Highly illegal for a minor to attempt the Memory Charm, but maybe she wouldn’t take him up on his offer and surely these were extenuating circumstances?

“Could you?” Her voice was sullen. “Isn’t it against the law, Percy? Perfect, prefect Percy?”

“Yes.” He fetched his wand, rubbing it clean on his pyjama top. He turned his sister around, pushing her shoulders, so that she faced him. “And yes.” Her eyes were wide, bloodshot and teary. “Think of him, Ginny. Think of every thought that you’ve had, every moment you spent with him in your mind.” His throat felt dry. “Remember every word you confided in him, remember how he used you. The basilisk. The chickens. The diary. Colin. Hermione.” Her blotchy face was rapidly turning green as she listened to him. Percy aimed his wand at her, wiggling it in a figure eight, focusing with all his mind on erasing Tom Riddle from her memory. “ _Obliviate_.”

Ginny collapsed in the dirt, a boneless heap. He fell to his knees by her, worried by her abnormal reaction to a simple Memory Charm. She appeared to be fine, however, if unconscious, her breathing and her pulse easing down to a normal pace. He shook her shoulder gently, but she merely shifted and did not wake. Sighing, he picked her up, staggering beneath her weight, and made his way back into the house. He pushed open her bedroom door with his foot and set her in her bed. He looked out the window; it wasn’t quite light yet. This would be his last night vigil, he thought, and sat down next to the bed. He would finish watching over her for the last time, and then go. He leaned over and kissed Ginny on the forehead before settling in to wait for the dawn.


End file.
